Sleeping on a Cloud
by Kotterin
Summary: Arnold and Ben get to sleep in an actual bed for once, and they make the most of it.


For the life of him, Ben couldn't remember ever having felt something quite so _soft._ He imagined this was how it must feel to sleep on a cloud-surrounded by large pillows atop a blanket and mattress so stuffed with goose feathers that he felt like the bed itself might consume him as he sank into the fluff.

"Enjoying yourself, then?" Arnold asked, mouth quirking into a half-smile as Ben stretched luxuriously on the down blankets, back arching as his hands idly brushed along the fabric.

"More than you can imagine," he replied with a soft laugh. "I don't believe I can recall the last time I slept in a real bed."

Arnold's laugh was noticeably louder than Ben's as he propped himself up on an elbow. "I may have to write to Washington," he quipped. Ben arched an eyebrow, waiting for the general to continue. "I shall demand feather mattresses for every man. And a warm body to go with each."

Ben's body shook with laughter, even as he brought a hand to his mouth to stifle the sound. "He'll have to agree," he said finally, eyelids drooping a fraction as Arnold's free hand ghosted along his side. "I doubt any man would object to tha-at." He broke off with a small yelp, then a laugh, as the hand slid between his legs.

"Again?" he asked with feigned exasperation as he allowed himself to be pulled atop the man beside him.

"Who knows how long before we'll have a bed like this again?" Arnold replied. "We should make the most of it."

Whatever Ben had planned on saying in response was pushed into the back of his mind as Arnold slid two fingers inside him. He was still wet and open from their earlier lovemaking, and when Arnold withdrew his fingers, they glistened slightly in the candlelight. "Still so wet, Tallmadge," he growled, and his head fell back on the pillow with a low groan as Ben rolled his hips. "Now," he hissed, and Ben's smirk widened.

"Yes, sir," he breathed, and slowly, teasingly, he lowered himself onto Arnold's cock, the rapid rise and fall of his chest betraying the mischievous glint in his eyes. Arnold's hands tightened on his waist as he raised himself up once again, pausing once more when he felt the blunt head pressing lightly at his opening and circled his hips. The light press of hard flesh against the loose ring of muscle sent sparks of pleasure straight to his groin, and a soft moan escaped his lips before he could think to suppress it.

 _"Christ,_ Tallmadge," Arnold growled, and, before Ben's lust-addled brain could even begin to form a reply, those large hands tightened enough to bruise as he thrust up into the searing body above him. Ben's breath left his lungs in a punched-out gasp as the general buried himself to the hilt, pulling out and slamming in even harder until Ben got the idea and began moving in earnest.

In bed, Arnold was everything Ben had expected him to be: Passionate, fierce, rough, and noticeably impatient. So it was hardly a surprise when Arnold's hands moved from their bruising grip on Ben's hips to his shoulders, shoving him onto his back with one fluid movement. This hadn't worked out quite so well in the rickety excuses for beds they'd grown accustomed to at camp, but in the luxurious expanse of down and silk they currently occupied, Ben felt his shoulders sink deep into the mattress as his hips rose to meet a particularly hard thrust, not even bothering to stifle the yelp that burst from somewhere deep in his chest. "Ah!"

With Arnold in control, their pace grew quicker, and all Ben could manage was to spread his trembling thighs wider, inviting Arnold to thrust even deeper than before. "P-please... sir, please..." he moaned brokenly, gasping wildly for breath and heedless of the thin trail of saliva leaking from the corner of his mouth as he begged. "I need it... please..."

"What do you need, Tallmadge?" Arnold growled, punctuating each word with sharp, shallow thrusts that had Ben writhing on the blankets.

"I need it harder!" he exclaimed, draping one trembling leg across Arnold's lower back in an attempt to pull him closer. "Please, just..."

"Since you asked so nicely..."

The rough, punishing pace was everything Ben's body craved. A release in and of itself. The wild abandon of their... he would hesitate to call it lovemaking, but the longing and desperate need fueling their actions served as the perfect outlet for their many frustrations. They used each other until neither were able to form coherent words-until all thoughts were thrown aside and their worlds narrowed to the point where the only thing that mattered was the heat and ever-building pressure flooding through their bodies.

He couldn't think. He couldn't have voiced a single word if he'd wanted to, and all his years of learned eloquence were reduced to guttural moans and incoherent babbling, until he felt Arnold's hand close around his throbbing cock. "You're close, aren't you?" he panted in Ben's ear, and Ben could only nod helplessly. Arnold seemed satisfied by this, and with his other hand, he pulled Ben's hips closer until the younger man's buttocks were pressed flush against the general's knees.

The new position was simply too much for Ben, and with a strangled, animalistic scream, body trembling, he arched his back and came. The cords in his neck stood out as he threw his head back onto the pillows, hot, sticky come splattering between their bodies. Arnold's thrusts never slowed, and as darkness slowly gathered at the corner of Ben's vision, he felt the man above him suddenly still, a flood of warmth filling him as sharp teeth sank into his shoulder to muffle the general's shout.

When Ben finally came to-hours, minutes, seconds later, he was pleasantly aware of every inch of his body, as though he could feel the blood flowing directly under his skin. He sighed as he felt Arnold's hand-much gentler now-lazily push aside the sweaty strands of hair plastered to his forehead. When he finally felt steady enough to open his eyes again, he caught the briefest glimpse of a smile on Arnold's face before the man moved to collapse beside him, limp with exhaustion.

"Do you think they heard us?" Ben asked after a moment, and he felt, rather than heard, Arnold chuckle into his shoulder.

"They'll have heard _you_ , in any case," he replied, voice muffled slightly. "Wake me in the morning. Or else I might sleep through the rest of the war."

Ben's laugh was soft as he pressed his face deeper into the comfort of his pillow. "Yes, sir."


End file.
